


As you can well see

by Tsuki (Tsuki_Taiyo)



Series: The Martyr [5]
Category: Discord Murder Party (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:40:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27787660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsuki_Taiyo/pseuds/Tsuki
Summary: There has to be a missing piece.
Series: The Martyr [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2019548
Kudos: 4





	As you can well see

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own any of the characters, they belong to their actors and Internet Remix.
> 
> Have fun ^^

Grace had no idea how she got to her room. She only came back to herself sitting cross-legged on her bed with her notebook before her and staring into the middle distance. Tears were still running down her face.

 _I can’t believe she did that._ Grace wiped at her tears. _She is a bitch, but this?_

Forcing a deep breath, Grace focused her gaze on her notebook. It lay open on one of the pages she had filled closer to the beginning. It showed a sketch of the Murder God. Around it were scribbles and notes in two different handwritings. One orderly and neat, the other slanted and obviously hurried. Traces of what felt like a lifetime ago.

Something clawed in her chest, her heart racing at the mere reminder. Grace rubbed her forehead and quickly flipped through her notes. Towards the end, a few pages were filled with colourful scribbles the child had drawn in before Percy had handed over his sketchbook.

Her heart came to a sudden, stumbling stop. Her lip curled in a snarl. New tears pricked at her eyes. _This is not fair. Not fair at all._ She bit her lip. Something seemed to sit on her chest, her breathing restricted. It almost felt like back in London. Front door closing behind her after a long day at Scotland Yard. Suffocating.

Grace forced a gulp of air into her lungs.

It helped very little. A sob wrenched itself from her chest. She shoved her notebook away as she folded over and into herself. The blanket was cool against her forehead. It helped a little. Grace pressed a hand against her sternum to alleviate some of the pressure and forced herself to keep calming her breaths.

_He shouldn’t have done it. He shouldn’t have done it. He shouldn’t have done it._

Her glasses dug into the bridge of her nose and brows. Before her mind’s eye, Yugo smiled softly at them all in reassurance, as he accepted to become his title. The Martyr. As if Murder God had planned this all along.

 _Not like this. Not with accepting that you’ll be forgotten completely. By everyone. Yugo…_ She pushed herself back up, tears running down her cheeks and clouding her glasses. Grace took them off and wiped the glass clear in rough motions. This time she heard an echo of Ezra’s voice. _Why didn’t you allow us to stop you? There must have been another way. Another option._

Grace flung herself forward and grasped the notebook. The frames dug into her temples as she forced her glasses back on with one hand. Grabbing a pen, Grace began jotting down notes. All that she knew about the sacrifice, its reason and everything Murder God had said to them after. About some kind of sword that would be able to kill her. To put an end to this farce.

“A weapon to kill gods,” Grace muttered to herself. _She rigged the board against us, took the pieces right out of our hands by killing him and leaving us with Doc._ Grace flipped to another page in her book. Notes about Doctor McGuillicutty and all the other masks he wore filled her sight.

The notes and observations about the faces were plenty but not yet painting a picture Grace could decipher. Grace leapt off the bed and got out the paper she had copied her notes onto. _Maybe arranging them visually would help sort my thoughts._

She shoved the different masks around, considering them in other contexts, with whatever she had learned about the Void. Nothing seemed to stick. There were obvious connections and special powers each of them seemed to display, however none of them fit with their previous assumptions. Or her private ones for that matter.

 _Even though I did try my best to get the most information out of them…_ Grace picked up one of the papers. She read it over and found her remarks on possible vampires and or sorcerers. The ability to return from death within a scenario by sheer willpower.

Another page. A dislike for children, any at all. Even before Thorin was awake. Claims of different jobs throughout the Games. Mentions of a son.

Another page. Stiff politeness, bordering on hostility. Reverence for Murder God and deference to her. The capability for cold-blooded violence with no regards for pleas of mercy – maybe even a certain level of enjoyment?

No memory of their previous encounters within the Games.

Grace furrowed her brows. _There’s something I’m missing. Something obvious. I just have to look harder. I can do this._

Without pausing, Grace went rounds through her findings. She shifted her papers down over the floor around her bed, hovering above the sheets to read and rearrange them in hopes of finding any kind of clue.

No one came to her room. So Grace kept working. Working and thinking, noting thoughts down in her notebook that still rested on her bed. Working and thinking and doubting her own conclusions only to reaffirm them a second later. Lost in time, Grace worked and thought and doubted and rearranged until sleep claimed her, curled up on the covers of her bed.


End file.
